Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

  After the car was far behind she grew hesitant; at length pulling back. Zac was unrelenting in his forward march. “Can you see?” she asked. She could make out the shadows of trunks but not much else. There could’ve been a fort twenty yards ahead and she wouldn’t know it. She kept kicking things, stumbling over the uneven ground. The night sky was barely visible through the branches, the moon hidden once more behind scudding clouds.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. Then: “Here. We need to put as much distance on the vehicle as possible.” And, without further comment, he turned and picked her up, into the crook of one arm. She gasped at first then sank into him, relishing the warm security of his strength. She was too exhausted to protest.

  But he wasn’t planning to just carry her while he kept walking.

  “I’m going to run,” he said. “Wrap around me and hold on.” And he pulled her to him, one forearm under her holding her like a child, the other across her back and pressing her close. Her breasts squished against the muscles of his hard, bare chest and an unexpected thrill tingled through her. “Wrap your legs,” he said. “Hook your ankles at my back and hold your head tight against my shoulder.” She did so, able to hook her ankles around his narrow waist, arms wrapped around his sturdy neck. She felt the beat of his heart, strong against the accelerating thump of her own. He was so warm, giving off a soothing heat. Images of silly movies where the super-strong guy carried the girl to safety came to mind. Only, this was really about to happen.

  Pressing her cheek against the muscles of his shoulder she told him she was ready. His hand came up to the back of her head, held it gently but firmly in place …

  And they were off.

  The force of his lunge nearly made her scream but she bit it back—nearly biting her tongue in the process. Tightly she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, hard as she could, keeping her head from snapping back and forth as he took incredibly long, incredibly fast strides. The wind howled around her free ear, her ankles kept coming unhooked and she kept re-wrapping them tighter, squeezing her arms around his neck. The effort was nearly as much as if she were running herself.

  But the results were far more stunning. Branches whistled by. In her limited vision the trunks became a blur, black bar shadows that whipped by at an ungodly rate. Objectively, based on the roar of the wind and all other signs, they were probably going thirty miles an hour. In the pitch black, however, in the arms of a man who was carrying her as he ran, it seemed more like a hundred.

  The whole thing was surreal.

  Up they went, covering tremendous ground, zigging this way and zagging that, occasionally leaping across small chasms. Or big chasms. She couldn’t tell. All she knew was the vertigo was intense as they leapt through long arcs, landing solidly and continuing on. For Zac’s part she could tell he worked to reduce the jolts, running in an exaggerated gait for her sake that was nevertheless fast.

  After one landing she lost consciousness; not from the impact but from the rate at which her heart was pounding. Breathing had become fast and shallow. Again she fainted, then again. He must’ve felt her irregularly relaxing and spastic grip for he soon slowed to a walk—just as she snapped to the last time, gripping him with a sudden gasp.

  “This should be good,” he said. He walked now, holding her close. After a while he stopped but continued to hold her, letting her breathe, letting her steady herself. Then, slowly, lowered her to the ground—making sure she could stand before letting go. She swayed but caught herself.

  “Up here,” he took her hand and led her a bit further. Soon she heard the babble of a rippling brook, soothing in the silence of the deep woods. There was a clearing ahead, with a break in the canopy that let starlight through. The clouds were pulling back, moving fast high in the night sky, and as she and Zac reached the clearing and the stream the moon came out once more. Its light brought the whole scene into sharp relief.

  “Let’s rest here,” Zac suggested, surveying the soft ground.

  Jess struggled to get her bearings. For a long moment she simply stared at the gently flowing brook, the ripples on the water sparkling like so many diamonds under the strange moonlight.

  “We’ll figure this out tomorrow,” Zac offered. “In the meantime you should get some rest.”

  She was about to ask him if he was tired, but she already knew the answer. He wasn’t. He was ready to keep going. To find a way. She was the weak link. It was for her, not him, they would wait until morning. For her, not him, they would rest.

  Suddenly she felt more childish than ever. Standing before him in the darkness, this insanely strong boy from another world, his eyes an easy foot above her own. Hardly any older than her, really, but so much stronger, so much more fearless …

  I’m a big baby.

  She didn’t belong there.

  And it hit. The whole thing. Like a ton of bricks, hard out of nowhere and she gasped in a renewed effort not to cry. Please don’t cry. That would make it so much worse. Before she could stop, though, a shudder wracked her.

  Everything was suddenly too much.

  First a quiet sob, which she was mostly able to hold back, then another she couldn’t … and the tears came. Running down her cheeks. For another instant she tried harder, struggling futilely against the rising outburst, lip trembling, hoping she could stuff it back down before it became embarrassing, but it was obvious she couldn’t fight it. Her breathing hitched and caught in her throat. Without comment Zac pulled her to him, wrapped his strong arms around her—he saw it coming and it didn’t matter and, with his tender embrace …

  She completely lost the battle.

  A harsh gasp and the dam burst. Tears flowed steady, hot and unleashed, the gates open and streaming. She squeezed herself to him. In no time snot was running from her nose—lovely!—she sniffed loudly, again and again, and there was no longer any hope of regaining control. Even the shame of this display wasn’t enough to turn the force of her emotions.

  She bawled.

  Driving home the point.

  I’m weak.

  But Zac simply held her. No questions. No effort to get her to stop. No “there there’s” or “shh shh’s” or asking her to talk about it or anything else to make her feel worse. The tenderness in the way he held her, the totality of his understanding in that moment only brought the tears harder. It was as if every heartbreak, every sadness she ever had and held back over anything and everything for the last five years was suddenly released and pouring out of her, a grief that was already ages old and could no longer be contained. Tears ran like a river, onto the skin of his chest where she buried her face. She squeezed him, as tight as she could, letting it all go, completely gushing until the space between them was a big, sopping mess. Like a big baby.

  But it didn’t matter.

  He was there for her.

  Holding her as she cried.

  CHAPTER 12: SHOGUN ASHIKAGI

  Ashikagi Yoshi, supreme commander of the Dominion—Shogun—sat sleepily in his throne, stiff, red and gold silk robes—sign of his power—itchy at this odd hour when he should still have been in bed. His top general, Yamoto, stood before him in the inner sanctum of the Shogunate, high atop the Tower of Light in the center of the great city of Osaka.

  Yamoto shifted uneasily where he stood. “Apologies for the audience at this hour, Lord.”

  Ashikagi waved a weary hand to get on with it.

  “Lord,” his general paused, debating how to phrase his report, then said simply: “We’ve found Horus.”

  Ashikagi sat straighter. Awake at once.

  Yamoto spoke quickly. “There was a rip in the sky, over the city. Not unlike the phenomenon reported by the last Astake to battle him. Not long afterward this video was taken.” He signaled a waiting aide at a nearby screen.

  Ashikagi inhaled as the footage began. He watched the images of Horus and a girl. Their strange behavior. Strange attire. He rose from his throne and everyone in the room stood a little more rigid. Robes swept out
behind as he went to the screen, instructing the aide to run the images back and forth as he studied Horus closely.

  He turned to Yamoto. “Where is he now?”

  Yamoto’s discomfort intensified. “We believe he escaped, Lord. Shortly after this video was taken he was reported assaulting a city gate. After that he and the girl seem to have fled.

  “East, to the hills.”

  Ashikagi remained standing, staring hard at his general. Displeased that Horus was ever an issue in the first place. That, under some bewitchment of the traitorous Kitana, his Kazerai had seen fit to take the Icon and take his leave of them at all. Now he was back, which was good, but he was on the loose. Again.

  Apparently still beyond their control.

  “They did not report this when they found him?”

  “Apparently there was some confusion, Lord.”

  Ashikagi maintained his hard stare.

  Yamoto cast his eyes down. “When it was realized who it was, it was too late.”

  Ultimately it wouldn’t have mattered. Yes, Ashikagi was frustrated his greatest Kazerai had been able to slip from the city and flee. Yet, it would be up to the Shogun to bring him to heel in the end. No matter what else had been done.

  Ashikagi must see to this himself.

  “Summon Kang,” he informed his general. “I will go personally and we will recover the misguided Horus.”

  “Yes, Lord.” Yamoto nodded.

  “And Lyto,” Ashikagi warned him, “when I return there had better be progress with this blight on our lands.”

  Yamoto nodded again.

  “I grow weary of seeing them outside my windows,” Ashikagi gave a pointed nod to the blazing fires of battle far below and far away on the fields to the West of the city.

  “My patience is at an end.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  * *

  A massive bird circled in the leaden sky, low clouds above it ready to burst. The air was eerily still in anticipation of that moment. No thunder, no lightning. No breeze, even. The bird, a vulture of some sort, swooped lower as …

  Screams, echoing from the surrounding jungle. The sharp screeches startled Jess to her feet.

  She was wearing armor.

  How did I get this?

  Her heart raced. Tight, form-fitting armor. More screams and she began to run, feeling hugely vulnerable. Terrified to the point of panic.

  But her legs could make no forward progress. No matter how hard she pumped, she barely moved. The originators of the screams closed in, all around, unseen, banshee wails filling the trees; invisible, not even shadows to mark them, just their terrifying shrieks, the chaos of cracking limbs, the furious rustle of underbrush being ripped aside as they flailed forward in a frenzy to reach her.

  She was out of time. In an instant they would leap on her. Dozens of clawed, half-human beasts, tearing her to shreds.

  But there was nothing she could do.

  She kept trying to run.

  And run. Faster.

  And …

  Woke with a gasp.

  Sunlight. Glimmering through a canopy of leaves overhead. She squinted; put her hands to her eyes and rubbed them.

  It was morning.

  Abruptly a new panic seized her, the reality of where she was. Even worse than the dream world. She looked around frantically, laying on her back.

  Zac sat nearby.

  There are no monsters, she told herself. It was only a nightmare.

  Though the truth of her situation was hardly less frightening.

  “You okay?” Zac asked.

  Carefully she eased back. Managed to croak: “Yeah.” She was laying in a shallow dirt pit, covered in a blanket of thickly-leaved branches. After last night’s tearful breakdown Zac soothed her until she was calm, then scooped out a bed in the ground—even shaping a pillow for her head—making things as comfortable as he could under the circumstances. During that time he’d made no comment on her emotional display.

  As she recalled those moments she cringed within herself.

  Once in the makeshift bed, he’d arranged leafy branches over her until she was thoroughly encased and, exhausted, she fell right to sleep, her superhero guardian watching over her.

  Now she ached.

  “I started a fire,” he pointed to the little flames. “You were shivering.”

  She shivered then, noticing the cold. Depression washed over her and reality crashed harder. Suddenly she was trying not to cry again—looking for anything to which to cling. A ray of hope. Any tiny positive thing she could mold into a foundation for her shaky emotions. At least she wasn’t alone. Not only that, she thought, working to bolster her battered confidence, who she was with was a guy who was so far unstoppable. There could be worse companions to have in that terrible situation.

  It was enough to give her a little stability.

  Before she could dwell on it further an involuntary stretch gripped her and she went with it, straightening her legs all the way and curling her arms as her back twisted, dislodging all the branches as her muscles came alive. After several seconds she relaxed and lay there. Just breathing.

  She’d slept the sleep of the dead, not waking once during the night. Now she was stiff, her mouth was dry and she had to pee.

  The sound of the crackling fire came to her. Raising her head a little she stared at the small blaze flickering nearby. She could feel the heat on her bare legs.

  Zac reached and put another stick on it.

  “It seemed worth the risk,” he said. “I didn’t want you to freeze.”

  Shivers turned to shakes. It was indeed a cold morning. Her teeth began to chatter. Zac showed no signs of being affected, sitting on the hard ground in nothing but the black boxers. Consciously she tried to make herself stop shaking. She couldn’t.

  “I made some cups,” he showed her two coconut-looking husks. More like bowls. “I’ll get some water.” He took them and went over to the babbling creek. As he reached it she remembered her other urgency.

  “I’m going to pee,” she called and pushed away the rest of the branches. As she stood another stretch gripped her, and she took a moment to work out more of the kinks.

  Behind her Zac filled the cups as she found a secluded place on the slope. Done, she made her way back, arms hugged tight across her chest, unable to stop shivering no matter how hard she tried. She went immediately to the fire and knelt close to get warm.

  “It got colder overnight,” Zac returned and handed her a husk. It was filled with ice-cold water. “Looks like the clouds are clearing. Maybe the sun will come out and warm things up.”

  He sat across the fire from her as she sampled the water. It tasted clean so she took a bigger swallow. Then a few more, each making her more thirsty, not less. Her mouth was bone dry. Did I snore? She felt a tinge of concern. I must’ve snored. Zac obviously didn’t sleep, just like he hadn’t in the playhouse. Which meant he heard her if she did snore. Or snorted, or moaned, or screamed.

  Or farted.

  She took a few more sips, trying not to be embarrassed. Suddenly she wondered if he was a robot. He wasn’t drinking his own water, just holding the cup. Watching her with those amazing blue eyes.

  But he ate the chocolate donut. Back in the playhouse. Even if he claimed not to be hungry. There were other signs, other things that made it unlikely he was any sort of machine. He was warm. He had a heartbeat. At the thought of that she shuddered harder, recalling being pressed to his chest, that mad dash through the woods last night …

  He was definitely human.

  Just, inhumanly strong somehow.

  He took a sip from his cup and gave her a little smile.

  She sighed and looked away, uncomfortable with his easy gaze. He just kept looking at her. Like some great watch dog. Subtly she checked herself over, hoping he wouldn’t notice but needing to know how bad she looked. She was a mess. Filthy clothes, the whites of her outfit mottled with gray and brown streaks, gashes and tears. Dirty arms, dirt
y legs. She wondered how her face was—especially after crying like a baby, then sleeping on a dirt pillow. Casually she brushed at her cheeks, feeling for anything there as she pretended to scratch. How was her hair? Strands hung in her vision. The ponytail was intact but lots had come free. She pushed it back; reached and pulled out a small leaf. Zac looked great. Unscathed. Of course he did. He’d taken a bath in fire. That ought to make anyone squeaky clean.

  Yeah.

  How much detail could he see with his superhuman sight? Could he see her pores? Was her humanly-smooth face just a bunch of craters to him? God! How this mattered right then, in the middle of everything, she had no idea, but it did matter, and it was suddenly the only thing on her mind. He was so irresistible sitting there, perfect in every way, and here she was, a dirty, scraped-up, crater faced cry-baby with muddy cheeks and messy hair who’d been snoring and farting all night.

  “Need more?” he indicated her cup. It snapped her from her wildly careening thoughts.

  At least he couldn’t read minds.

  Could he?

  Now she was fully awake.

  She extended the near-empty cup. He took it with a smile and went to get a refill.

  “We should be able to see the city from here,” he called from the creek.

  After a moment, fading in and out, she stood and, reluctantly, left the warm blaze and followed him to where he waited at the edge. The water was a few feet deep, the creek a few dozen yards across with a rocky bottom. On the other side a clearing stretched up to a slope, an opening in the trees showing a big slice of sky. It looked more or less like a partly cloudy sky on Earth, the sun peeking through; same blues, same greens.

  However the sun, like the moon, was different. More subtle in this case but different nonetheless. Orange, a little larger, but all else so similar. Earth-like, definitely. Earth? Definitely not. As far as alien worlds went, though, you couldn’t ask for better. The air was crisp. The greenery, now that she studied it in the daylight, was as vibrant as any forest of home, the trees similar enough to pass for real trees.